


White Wedding

by Last_Chance_Anna



Series: STAY [10]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Clint Barton Feels, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Mother Hen Tony Stark, Natasha Romanov Feels, Old Married Couple, Steve Rogers Feels, Team as Family, short and sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:33:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22244899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Last_Chance_Anna/pseuds/Last_Chance_Anna
Summary: Time for a wedding!
Relationships: Bruce Banner/Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov, Pepper Potts/Stephen Strange, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Tony Stark & Bruce Banner
Series: STAY [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1543645
Comments: 8
Kudos: 41





	White Wedding

**Author's Note:**

> Weddings, with a few exceptions, are a trope I usually don't go for, but I thought there kind of had to be one to round out this little series. Full-circle, and all that.

“I’m nervous.”

“Don’t worry, honey,” Nat said. “There’s nothing to be nervous about.”

Steve tugged at his tie. They’d decided, after much debate, to forgo tuxes for the event. Tuxedos, while traditional and “James Bond-y”--Tony’s words--were also a little too “flashy”--Steve’s words--for a Saturday afternoon, lake-side affair.

There were a lot of other words said. A _lot_ of other words.

Nat, Bruce, Sam, Clint, and Rhodey all sat watching the two of them go at it, their eyes ticking from one side of the room to the other like spectators at a tennis match. None of them had witnessed a full-blown Steve/Tony yelling match in a long time. It was funny that they could get so passionate over such a little thing.

Finally, Rhodey stood up and whistled piercingly loud. Steve and Tony stopped in mid-rant, the words “goddamn drama queen” wilting on Steve’s lips.

“Can you two please fuck it out later?” Clint said mildly. “How ‘bout giving someone else the floor?”

“Here here,” Bruce said, and Steve and Tony both subsided into moody silence, listening, but not contributing, while the rest of them calmly hashed it out between them. 

When the others left, Tony turned to Steve. “Well? You wanna?” Steve did, and the two of them fucked it out. Loudly.

In the end, they went with semi-casual suits and ties for the guys. Nat had lobbied for a shirt and tie for the ladies too, citing the combined punch of equality and sexiness, but buckled under the apocalyptic force of Steve’s puppy-dog eyes and said she’d wear a dress. She wasn’t sorry. The smile he gave her was worth it.

“They’ll all be _looking_ ,” Steve said now. “What if I trip or something?”

Nat laughed and laid her cool hand on his arm. “It’s just us, Steve. And besides, it’s _me_ they’ll all be looking at. I’m the one showing all the leg.”

Steve blushed and hugged her. “You’re right. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” she said. “It’s going to be fine.”

\---

“I’m nervous.”

“Don’t worry, Tony,” Bruce said. “You don’t really have to do anything. You just need to stand there and look pretty. We’ll all handle the rest.”

Tony shot him a withering look. “Wow. Really, Bruce? You and Rhodey have been spending _way_ too much time together lately.”

Bruce frowned a little, blushing. “Yeah,” he agreed. “That was mean. I’m sorry.”

Tony tried hanging on to his irritation, but just couldn’t. Adorable-Bruce was too much. He grabbed him and squeezed him tight instead. “You’re forgiven. I can’t stay mad at you. Especially not today.”

“Yeah. Today’s all about the good things.”

“Yup. Nothing but good stuff today,” Tony said. “But I’m still nervous.”

“Don’t be,” Bruce said, fiddling with his tie. “I’ll be right up there with you.” He pulled on the ends of the gray silk, then sighed, frustrated. “Will you do this? I can’t ever get it right.”

Tony stood in front of him, worked his magic in the form of the Eldredge Knot, then turned Bruce toward the mirror. “How’s that?”

Bruce smiled, his already handsome face becoming even more so. Tony was thrilled to think he could make that happen. “Fancy. I like it.”

“Well,” Tony said. “It _is_ a wedding. And since I was out-voted on the tuxes--dick move, by the way, Bruce--you can at least give me this.”

Bruce ran his fingertips over the intricately-woven knot at the base of his throat. “Hmm. Maybe we should have went with the tux. This _does_ look good.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “You couldn’t have said that six weeks ago?”

\---

The back lawn was set up with rows of chairs creating the aisle down the middle. There was none of the traditional splitting into “sides” though. That was laughable. Everybody coming was family, and this was casual. No separation needed. Or wanted.

Clint and Laura had come up a day early, and Clint spent the day with Tony stringing fairy lights on the deck and the back of the house. Clint climbed up in the trees to do those too, he and Tony tossing the balls of lights from one to the next as Clint moved with dexterous ease among the branches. Tony was glad he was there. He was too old for that kind of thing. Clint knew it too, but to his credit, never said it aloud.

Well, almost never.

Laura and the Tiny Bartons picked bunches of wildflowers and attached them to the chairs along the aisle and arranged some at the altar near the lake where the ceremony would take place. When they were done, and the kids started to get bored, Bruce showed them how to fold origami cranes, and they spent the evening folding paper like mad. One thousand made wishes come true. They didn’t quite make it, but it was okay. It wasn’t really the number that mattered, Bruce told the disappointed kids, kindly. It was the feeling behind it.

\---

Nat and Steve went to pick up the cake. As it turned out, not only was he a bad-ass bowler, but Tony’s friend Jeff was an even more bad-ass baker. He’d done cakes for half the town and was thrilled to do this one too.

He balked when Steve tried to pay him.

“Absolutely not,” he said firmly.

“It’s not right, Jeff,” Steve said. His hand was filled with bills. Five hundreds. He held them out. “Please? This is beautiful,” he said, gesturing to the flower-bedecked cake. “It had to’ve taken you hours, plus the cost of supplies…”

Jeff shook his head and folded his arms. “Nope. And not a thing you can say will make me change my mind.”

Steve turned his eyes to Nat. He was starting to feel a little desperate. Tony was stubborn, sure, but Jeff was immovable. Steve even broke out his puppy-dog eyes. He usually reserved them for special occasions--and this definitely fit the bill--but Jeff seemed totally immune. That had never happened to Steve before. “Nat, help me,” he pleaded. “I can’t just _not pay_. Tell him.”

“He seems pretty decided, Steve,” she said.

“Let me give it to Jen, then,” Steve said. “She’ll take it.”

“She sure won’t. Whose idea do you think this was?”

Nat laughed and took hold of Steve’s arm, tugging him a little. “Come on. I think it’s time to retreat, Captain.”

“No. Jeff--”

Jeff clapped him on the shoulder. “She’s right. Let it go, son.”

Steve sighed. “Fine,” he grumbled. “But you’re coming, right? To the reception?”

“Are you kidding,” Jeff laughed. “I wouldn’t miss it. Especially if Miss Romanov here will save me a dance.”

“I’d love to.”

Steve held out the bills one more time. “Please?”

Nat yanked his arm. “Come on, Steve.”

He went.

\---

They were holed up in his and Tony’s bedroom, and when there was a knock on the door, Steve jumped. Nat, characteristically, was cool-headed. She just patted his shoulder and went to answer the door.

“Nat,” Steve said, but she shushed him.

“It’s fine. Sit down. You look like you’re going to throw up.”

She stood at the door, put her hand on it, and used her red-painted nails to tap on it. Steve recognized the Morse Code: -.-. .-.. .. -. -

A moment later, there was a return pattern: -. .- -

She smiled and opened the door. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Clint said. “You guys ready? They’re waiting on you. Well, us, I guess.”

Natasha looked at Steve. “Are we ready, honey?”

Steve stood up and nodded. He was ready. Nerves be damned, he was ready. He walked over to the two of them and reached for their hands. Nat and Clint linked their free hands together, and they stood in a circle. None of them spoke. They didn’t really need to . But, Nat squeezed Steve’s hand in a pattern. He knew this one, too.

.. / .-.. --- …- . / -.-- … ..-

She must have sent it to both of them, because all of a sudden, there were tiny tears in the corners of Clint’s eyes.

And Nat’s.

And Steve’s.

Natasha shook her head and released their hands. She blinked rapidly, then let out a breath. “Alright, guys,” she said brightly. “Let’s go.”

They walked out together, the three of them, and crossed to the back door. Sun streamed through the window set into it, hitting the shimmer in Nat’s dress. She looked like she was wearing a garment made of diamonds. Steve’s mind cast back to Sam’s apartment the morning after Hydra had nearly killed them in Zola’s New Jersey lab. She’d asked him if he trusted her. Strange now, to think that was a question she’d ever had to ask.

Steve opened the door. “Here we go.”

They stepped out into the summer afternoon and Nat stood between them. Steve and Clint, her two best friends. The man she’d loved the longest, and the one she’d loved the most fiercely. She took their arms and held them both tightly, her eyes finding those of the man she loved most at the end of the aisle.

Steve forgot his nerves as he helped guide Natasha down that short walkway. He saw Tony standing next to Bruce, and suddenly, there were no nerves. Tony winked at him, just a quick, subtle, drop of an eyelid, but it was for Steve, and he caught it. Caught it and held it near his heart, and after that, it was easy.

Thoughts of Natasha flooded his mind as he walked. Battle-bloodied and bruised, dancing in a red dress and slinky heels, lying in his bed in his old green Army t-shirt, kicking his ass in the gym. She’d believed in him, held him, helped him, tethered him, and given him wings to fly. Other than Bucky and Tony, she was the one person he had ever truly claimed as his own. She was his. She’d always be his. A part of him. Another piece of the puzzle that was Steve Rogers’ heart. And Bruce was waiting for her, and Steve would give her willingly and happily, but he would never let her go. Not completely. Never completely.

They reached the end of the aisle, and she turned to him, reached up and took his face in her hands. All of his thoughts were reflected in her own eyes. Because they were _her_ thoughts, too. She owned him just as much as he owned her. And nothing would ever-- _could_ ever--change that.

Steve bent and kissed her waiting mouth, and she held him there for a long moment, cherishing the feeling of this last kiss between them before she gave another piece of her heart irrevocably away. When she pulled away, her tears had spilled free and dampened her pink cheeks. He wiped them away with the balls of his thumbs, and she clasped his hands in hers and kissed his knuckles.

She turned to Clint next and he held her with an intensity that bordered possession. He whispered words in her ear in a rapid jumble that even Steve, who was standing so close, couldn’t hear.

Steve looked away, giving them their moment, and looked up at Tony again. Tony gazed steadily back, grounding him in this whirlwind of emotion he was lost in. Giving him something solid to hold onto, and Steve had never loved him more than he did in that moment. Tony must have felt it, because he drew in a deep breath, blew it out, and cocked his eyebrow at Steve. Steve grinned at him, utterly lost in his love for him, for Natasha, for Bruce, and Clint, and everyone else around them. His family.

At last, Clint released Nat, and she stepped forward. Bruce held out his hand, and she left Steve and Clint to stand next to him without looking back.

Steve’s eyes met Clint’s. He smiled a little, and Clint’s shoulders lifted in a tiny shrug. _That’s that,_ that shrug said as clearly as his own mouth could have. Steve nodded. _Yeah. That’s that._ And while neither man would ever say so to anyone, not even themselves, they both felt a little piece of themselves crumble away, lost to the love of another man.

\---

The reception was loud.

Music played, food was eaten by the plateful, and the booze flowed freely. Thor brought some of his Asgardian mead. He, Bucky, Steve, and Jeff each did three shots, and Jeff passed out against Thor’s shoulder.

“He will be fine,” Thor assured a very worried, highly pissed-off Tony Stark. “He has made his ancestors proud. He deserves a rest.”

“Try explaining that to his wife,” Tony shouted, throwing his hand backward to where Jen was currently dancing with Sam. 

Thor scoffed. “She will be fine, as well,” he said. “She and Natasha each had four.”

Steve and Bucky leaned into each other, their laughter raucous and carefree. Tony shook his head and stalked away, mumbling something about irresponsible assholes as he went.

Sir Purr spent the evening trying very hard to stay out of the clutches of the gaggle of Barton children who had all decided he was far too snuggly to be allowed to walk around on his own. He hid under tables, chairs, and even climbed a tree once before finally giving in and just resigning himself to a night of being petted and packed by Clint’s kids.

There were speeches and stories and far too many toasts raised in honor of Nat and Bruce. Far too many glasses of champagne. Far too many dances. Far too many songs. Natasha herself brought the house down with a sultry rendition of Peggy Lee’s “Fever” that left Bruce a stammering, blushing mess, and it was not long after that, the couple decided to make their escape.

\---

The party raged for another two hours after Natasha and Bruce left, and then people finally started dropping off.

Tony found beds for all of them, blow-up mattresses, sleeping bags. Peter had helped the Bartons build a giant pillow-fort and all of them, Peter, Clint, and Laura included, ended up sleeping inside it, a tangle of arms and legs and good-natured grousing about this one stealing the covers and that one’s cold feet.

Jeff woke up enough to insist he could drive home. “I feel like I’m sixteen again!” he proclaimed, never moving from the patio chair he was currently laid out on. 

“I’m sure you do, dear,” Jen said. “But your body’s still fifty-five.”

“I can do cartwheels again, honey. Watch me!”

Jen and Tony exchanged a look as Jeff continued to lie on the chair.

“See?” he said. “Five in a row. Just like I used to do, remember?”

She smiled fondly. “I remember, dear. Maybe you should cartwheel home.”

“I can do that,” he said, then promptly fell back asleep.

Tony helped her move him to the couch then gave her a blanket as she curled up in Tony’s old, ugly, surprisingly comfy recliner.

Some of the more lucid ones, Tony did allow to drive away. Nick Fury, as cool and calm as Tony had ever seen him, left. Bucky and Sam, both still sober, went with him, and Rhodey followed in his Lexus. They were going back to the Compound. There was still a job to do, Fury said, no matter how enjoyable the evening had been.

Most of the others popped off soon after. There were still a few stragglers, though. Stephen Strange and Happy were playing a mellow game of chess while Pepper and May lounged near the fire watching. Scott picked out a quiet tune on the piano while Hope sat beside him, her head on his shoulder.

Mostly, though, it was quiet, quiet and peaceful, and Tony felt a huge sense of contentment as he wandered from room to room making sure everyone was alright, seeing if they needed anything, an extra blanket, a glass of water. Everyone he asked was fine, but there was one person he did not encounter, and, he realized, he had not encountered him for quite a while.

“Happy, have you seen Steve?” he asked.

“I haven’t, boss,” Happy answered, then groaned as Strange took down his remaining knight.

“I’ve got you now,” Strange said.

“Don’t count him out yet, Stephen,” Pepper said. “I’ve seen him win with only his king, a rook, and two pawns left on the board.” She looked up at Tony, the firelight catching in her eyes, making them shine. “Remember that, Tony?”

“Yeah,” Tony mumbled, grudgingly. “The guy’s got the luck of the fucking devil, Strange.”

“That’s not luck, boss,” Happy said. “That’s all skill.”

“Pfft,” Tony huffed, and left the house.

The fairy lights were still on, still twinkling in the darkness as Tony walked down to the lake. He turned west at the shoreline and didn’t have to go very far before he saw a silhouette against the setting moon. Even in the darkness, he knew who it was. He’d know the line of those shoulders anywhere.

“Hey, you,” Tony said as he drew nearer.

Steve glanced up. His face was still lost in shadow, but Tony could hear the smile in his voice. “Fuck you.”

Tony closed the distance between them then reached down and touched his hair. Steve hummed a little. “I wondered where you’d gotten off to.”

“Just here,” Steve said. “I needed a little quiet. Sorry.”

Tony sat down beside him, then raised an eyebrow when he saw Sir Purr curled up against Steve’s thigh. “Nothing to be sorry about,” he said. “That place was a mad-house. Kind of worth it to hear Nick Fury and Thor doing a duet of ‘You Light up my Life’, though.” Tony reached over Steve and pet the top of Sir Purr’s head. “I am, however, disappointed that you’re keeping the baby up.”

“ _He_ followed _me_ ,” Steve said, then ran his fingers over the cat’s smooth back. “I think he needed a little quiet, too.”

“Yeah. Your kids are a bunch of rowdy drunks.”

“They’re _your_ kids, too.”

“Sure, when they’re acting like idiots, they’re my kids, too. I see how it is, Rogers.”

Steve nodded his head at Sir Purr. “At least that one’s quiet.”

Tony latched onto Steve’s arm and shook it with gleeful joy. “I knew it!” he crowed. “I knew you thought of him as our baby.” He drug Sir Purr over Steve’s lap and into his own arms to cuddle him. “Did you hear that, Sir Purr? Daddy _does_ love you.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Steve said.

“Don’t spoil my fun, soldier.”

Steve smiled his half-smile. “No. I wouldn’t want to do that.”

A silence fell between them, comfortable and warm, broken only by the lapping of the lake on the beach, and the cat’s rusty purr. Tony put his hand on the back of Steve’s neck and brushed through his hair. Steve sighed in contentment.

After awhile, Steve spoke. “Kinda weird they went with the traditional vows, huh?” he said.

Tony continued running his hand through Steve’s hair. “Yeah. I do wish Nat would have told him sooner, though. Bruce rewrote his four times before he found out he didn’t need them.”

Steve shifted closer to Tony and laid his head on his shoulder. Tony rubbed his back in soft circles. “Oh,” Steve said. “That’s a little sad.”

“Nah, it’s okay. He’s going to read them to her tonight. Just the two of them.”

“Mm. That’s okay, then. Kinda nice.”

“Yeah.” 

Steve took Tony’s hand and laced their fingers together. “Tony?”

“Hmm?”

“Is that something we should be doing?”

“What?” Tony asked.

Steve looked back over his shoulder at the house. The fairy lights twinkled in the dark between the fluttering leaves of the trees. It was beautiful. Magical. It cast its spell even here. “That,” he said. “ _This_. That.”

Tony laughed. “What? Getting our whole family sloppy drunk and letting them sleep it off all over the house? We do that enough, Steve.”

“No,” Steve said, then reconsidered. “Well, yeah, I mean, I guess that’s a part of it, but you know, the--” he paused, sighed, “ _vows_ and stuff?”

“What do you mean?” Tony asked.

Steve sat up straight, pulling away from Tony. He missed Steve’s warmth and closeness already. “I mean should we be getting married.”

Tony frowned. “Baby, _what_ are you talking about?”

“I literally just said what I was talking about, Tony.”

Tony shifted, lifting Sir Purr off his lap and settled him aside. He moved until he sat cross-legged directly in front of Steve. “No, I know,” he said, leaning closer. Steve looked at him, frowning a frustrated little frown. “But, I just…” Tony smiled a little. “I thought we already _were_.”

Steve blinked, then the frown intensified. Tony wanted to kiss those lines between his brows, tease them away with his lips and tongue, but he resisted. For the moment, he resisted.

“Were _what_?” Steve asked.

“Were-- _are_ \--married.”

Steve’s frown of concentration became almost dangerous, making Tony’s heart hammer in his chest. The laser-focus of Steve’s full attention sizzled within him, singeing his nerve-endings. 

“What?” Steve asked quietly.

Tony tried to smile, feeling almost afraid now. Afraid he’d been wrong. “Yeah,” he said, striving for lightness. “I’m pretty sure I said ‘I do’ to you, baby. And I’m fucking _positive_ you said it to me. I’m no expert, but isn’t that the hallmark of the whole ‘getting married’ thing?”

“Yeah,” Steve said slowly, never losing his focused gaze. “But, Tony--”

“Hey,” Tony said, then reached out and touched Steve’s hand again. A little snap of energy, like an electric shock jolted through him at Steve’s touch. Tony gasped, but locked his fingers over Steve’s. The shock became a low, steady hum. “Hey, baby, if you want that,” Tony said, staring him in the eye, “ _this_ , the wedding, the vows, all of it, you know I’m down.”

Steve’s shoulders eased, the hum of electricity eased with it, but the warmth remained. The warmth that was Steve. Just Steve.

Tony leaned closer, getting into Steve’s space. “I mean, the thought of you in a dress uniform is always hot,” he said deliberately, and Steve ducked his head, blushing and smiling. Tony went on, unable--or maybe just unwilling--to stop his own mouth. “Of course, I really only want you in your uniform so I can take you _out_ of it. And even _I_ know it’s inappropriate to strip you down in front of our whole family and a man of the cloth.”

“ _Tony_ \--” Steve said, and Tony felt better. Better, hell. _Powerful._

He squeezed Steve’s hands, passing his own warmth to Steve, then released one so he could cup his cheek, run his thumb across his cheekbone. “I don’t know,” Tony said, softly now, matching his tone to his touch. “I guess I just didn’t think--”

But Steve shook his head. “I don’t,” he said.

“Don’t what?”

“Want that,” Steve said. He put his free hand over Tony’s, moved it to his mouth, and kissed Tony’s palm. “I don’t want that. I’d do it if you want, Tony. You know I would, but--”

“I don’t.” Tony shrugged, relishing the sweet warmth of Steve’s mouth against the palm of his hand, relishing how personal it felt. How intimate. “I don’t need that. I know who we are, baby. I don’t need a government seal of approval.”

Steve kissed his palm again, then just held his hand. “The less the government’s involved in our lives the better,” he said. “They’ve fucked us up enough, Tony. I don’t want them to touch this. _Us_.”

“I know, baby. Me neither.”

“It’s nice the option’s mostly there,” Steve said. “For other people. But I’m kind of okay with us the way we are.”

Tony leaned in and pressed his mouth to Steve’s. A tiny jolt of electricity seared his lips. Tony kissed him harder. “Me too,” he said when he pulled away.

Steve drew in a breath and let it out. An air of happiness, of contentment settled around him. Tony wrapped himself up in it, just like he wrapped himself up in Steve’s arms every night.

“So, I’m not the world’s worst guy for not asking you?” Steve asked.

“No,” Tony assured him. “You’re the world’s best guy for just doing it a long time ago.”

Steve ran a hand through his own hair, looking a little like a kid. That made Tony smile. “In a goddamn prison,” Steve muttered.

“Yeah,” Tony said dreamily. “I’ll never forget our honeymoon. A blowjob on a prison cell floor.”

“Shut up, Tony.”

“Hey, do we _go_ on a honeymoon?” Tony asked curiously. “I never thought about that. Is that still allowed without a proper weddin’?”

Steve shrugged, smiling at him from under his lowered lashes. He knew what he was doing. Tony was convinced of it. The menace. “I hear Tahiti’s nice.”

“Hmm. I think I still have that place in Tahiti.”

“I’d go anywhere with you.”

Tony stood up. Steve held out his hands and Tony helped haul him to his feet. Steve wrapped his arms around him and buried his face in the crook of Tony’s neck. Tony held him, scratching his short nails up and down the muscles of his back. They stood that way for awhile, both giving and taking warmth, peace, love. Sir Purr stood between them, rubbing against their shins.

Tony bent his head and kissed Steve’s shoulder. “How ‘bout just to bed for now, soldier?”

“Yeah, Tony,” Steve said. “Bed sounds good.”

“Come on, then,” Tony said, and they walked hand-in-hand up the path towards home.

**Author's Note:**

> I know I've said this a million times, and feel free to skip over this, but thank you for reading these stories! Thank you for taking time out of your lives to live in my head for a little while. I am the better for it. 
> 
> Morse Code translations: 1. Clint 2. Nat 3. I Love You
> 
> Title from the Billy Idol song.


End file.
